


Play Me, I'm Yours

by qxriosity



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5422205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qxriosity/pseuds/qxriosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Deep down, Adrien knew. He was not fixing the root problem; only patching it up with inadequate solutions that will never even come half way. </p><p>But still he clung to it."</p><p>In which Adrien sees a street side piano and contemplates his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play Me, I'm Yours

The words painted on the instrument called out to him, beckoning him to come closer. Adrien stopped walking at the sight of the colourful instrument and clenched his hands, gazing longingly at the lonely street side piano. Oh, how he wanted to press his finger tips against those black and yellowed keys, dusty from the streets of Paris and practically glowing from the bright summer sun.

It was so bright and warm here.

So nostalgic.

Soon, the boy found himself shaking with anticipation and slight apprehension.

Adrien loved the piano. Or perhaps, more accurately, he loved the emotions the instrument instilled in him. He spent hours dedicating himself to the instrument, trying to recreate that feeling he felt so long ago with his family. He loved those days; He remembers sitting with his mother, the two of them singing along to his father's piano accompaniment. There were also times when they'd all play together, six hands on a single piano. It filled him with feelings of warmth, love, and _home_ , and not for the first time, he wanted his family together again.

Ever since his mother's disappearance, his playing hadn't been the same. Of course it wasn't. His technical skill had improved beyond his teacher's expectations in a such a short period of time and his ability to follow the time and recreate the composer's piece was impeccable.

But it was stagnant. Before, his fingers would clumsily dance across the white and black, but oh, was there ever a time when his feelings wouldn't show? His joy, sadness, nervousness, and frustration; his mother and father could pick them out from the moment he pressed those keys. Despite the abuse he had put their piano at home through, his mother had always smiled and told him to keep his music alive by letting his emotions guide it. Back then, his music, _their_ music, was colourful. But now, his fingers would glide across the keys smoothly and skillfully, muscle memory guiding him. He became adept at faking emotions and acting as if he truly felt the music and the composer's message. If he can play well and emote, he can bring himself back to that time, right? His father would be pleased and they'd maybe, just maybe, be able to play together again.

But faking it was not nearly enough. Not enough to coax his father into spending time with him nor was it enough to chase they grey away.

Deep down, Adrien knew. He was not fixing the root problem; only patching it up with inadequate solutions that will never even come half way.

But still he clung to it. Still, he poured his soul into it. He was determined to find it. He was determined to bring clarity, life, and colour to his music once again.

But there was only so much one can do when the feeling was no longer there.

Adrien scanned the words on the piano once more. How different would it be? To perform for himself in such a casual setting, so unlike the large concert halls and stuffy atmosphere where everyone was there to judge, critique, and compare. The white words painted on the garishly coloured piano sang to him. His father would never have allowed it to be in his vicinity, let alone allowed him to play it. Adrien swallowed the dry lump in his throat. Suddenly, he was sweating. It was so hot. He felt flushed and he could hear his blood pounding in his ears. The comfortable warmth the sun brought suddenly became overbearing, beating down on his head and body. His hands were clenched tight and later he would find numerous crescent indents along his palms. But right now, he was _shaking_ and-

“Dude, if you want to play it, just go! Don't think so hard about it, man. You're stressing me out too.”

A familiar voice, ringing clear, snapped Adrien out from his reverie. Well, he supposed the slap on the back also helped too. The boy looked up and found his friends watching him; each with smiles, each decorated differently.

Empathy, curiosity, and concern.

He flushed in embarrassment. Was it so obvious? Was he so easy to read?

“Sorry, I-I... Uh, erm-” Adrien stuttered, looking between the three and the piano.

“'I-I- Uh',” Alya cut in, her smile suddenly devious. “Come on, boy. You sound exactly like Marinette when she's trying to talk to her _crush_.”

A high pitched “ _Alya!_ ” and the muffled thump of a fist hitting a backpack caused laughter to erupt from the taller two in front of him. Adrien watched Marinette as her face burned, frantically flailing her arms in front of him, trying to explain herself in jumbled sentences. Unable to hold back, Adrien joined the pair in laughter, much to Marinette's dismay. Slowly, he felt his tension fade away.

When the group calmed down a bit, Nino addressed his best friend again, voice still breathless and uneven. “Well? Are you going to play something for us or what?”

Adrien grinned sheepishly and shrugged before making his way to the empty piano bench.

_I guess that's a yes?_

Sitting down, he brushed the warm keys lightly, feeling them give slightly under the natural weight of his fingers. It was an old piano, Adrien noted. The keys were well worn and the piano had many scratches. Some were unintentional, caused by transportation or worn down by the weather, but many were. Torn between irritation and slight amusement, his eyes trailed over the numerous initials purposefully engraved into the wood, phrases in other languages, and pictures.

Adrien adjusted himself on the seat and focused his attention back onto the keys in front of him. No one spoke a word. The chatter and rumble of the streets seemed to fade behind him. To Adrien, it was as if the world became his audience, silent and anticipating.

Silence was something Adrien could never grow accustomed to. How many times prior to his performances had he heard that powerful sound? It was so quiet, not even a squeak of a chair or the breath of his audience could be heard. It was suffocating and reminiscent of his house. But this time, it was different. For the first time in a long while, it filled him with nervous excitement.

_Play Me, I'm Yours._

As his eyes traced over the words, he felt something bubble within him. A warm, comfortable feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. The feeling he had been seeking all this time.

Grinning widely, he began to play.

**Author's Note:**

> The fic turned out kind of Adrien-centric and he became a broody little butt head as I continued to write.  
> ... Please believe me when I say that this fic was supposed to be a really cute fluffy reveal fic but here we are! *cue nervous laughter*
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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